A day in May!

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It was a warm beautiful day in May,

They were very gay to be sitting together on the hay,

On the way to the ocean’s bay,

One letter shy of the same, their names were Jay and Fay,

They lay and watched the donkey bray,

The sheer brilliance of the sun’s piercing ray,

Made them uncontrollably shout hurray and hey and yay,

It made them pray,

That the magic of that moment will stay.

Brussels © April 2015 afesehngwaHilary

To evolve is to love more!

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Dear Counselor,

To evolve is to love more,

Children don't ask to be born,

Let us spare them the egregious pain of being torn,

They don't choose their families,

Even when they are beautiful like wild lilies,

They happen in their circumstance,

And are affected when adults do or don’t take the right stance,

Let us not consciously subject them to the whims of chance,

We must change the music and the kind of adult responsibility dance,

We have an obligation,

To do a universal child abuse ligation,

Starting from where you are,

Please stop bringing them to the bar,

So as long as any one is a child,

They can be spared a life confusingly very wild,

And each of them should get a chance at worthwhile life,

With opportunities very rife,

A child is a child,

In the palace or in the cave,

Let us treat them right,

Protect their fragile children rights,

Spare them the countless many societal blights,

Nurture a nourishing culture,

They are the undeniable future.

Brussels © April 2015 afesehngwaHilary

Acid test of love!

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A good feeling is a good feeling,
And love is love,
Sometimes they meet,
Sometimes they don't,
True love is not a trophy to be earned,
It is a habit to be learned,
It is a free will gift,
With the power to lift,
It is a choice,
It is a voice,
Which only the heart can hear,
And in the process calm its fear,
It is a tough call,
A call to be tall,
With overtones of sacrifice,
Sweet when love grips you like a vice,
Love's company can be a tear,
Accompanied by a heart tear,
Which only more love can heal,
Till the wound is sealed,
The truest call is the toughest,
The call to love the roughest,
The most undeserving,
The one who put a gun on your head,
Shot your daddy,
Raped your mom and sisters,
Robbed you of every valuable thing,
Love is a choice in grace...
It is the heart of life,
The beginning and end of life,
The toughest call to love is the acid test,
When love is not stimulated yet it loves.

Brussels © April 2015 afesehngwaHilary

My biggest fears!

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It was Sunday …for Brussels an unusually sunny day…It was Easter…celebrating a famous death… one meant to be a public spectacle… on the cross… a shameful death… transformed into a pillar of light… illuminating many lives… lighting many paths… renewing hope… triumph…over death… weakness…darkness… 

It was my birthday…the day I was born…this day born again…out of the ashes…the failures…the rubble... my entire being flushed… with gratitude… my mind wondered… and wandered… to meet my biggest fears…the fear that I may keep growing old …without continually growing up… the fear that someday… I may go to my grave… without being everything I could be…all I am meant to be…all that I was sent to be…with wasted talents and un honed skills… 

I don’t want to be a duplicate…don’t have to be same…embrace my difference…to the best opportunities show deference…let my compass be truth… not acceptance…a daunting feat…makes me not feel fit…so I pray I’ll have courage… to be a better man…find value in everyone… lace my humanity with care… steep it in love! 

You see my name is afeseh… means given by God… a gift…from the hands of omniscience…omnipotence…and hilary’s me too…though powerful… a hilarious giving… I intend to make the gift count… growing the world’s stock of human hilarity… I don’t know how… not sure how… not sure I will… I may fail… but every day I’ll start… one moment… one day at a time… may fall but I’ll be up again!

                                         Brussels © April 2015 afesehngwaHilary

Death of the caterpillar - weird metaphor of Easter!

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Morphosis the caterpillar knew for sure that it was the end,

The inevitable end of life as she had known it,

Shock and denial,

Then death finally and unavoidably came visiting,

Its ugliness morphed into the transcendent glory of better life,

In a spectacle of breath taking sentience,

A thing of ethereal beauty,

Rose from the ashes of the past and the place of death,

Full with the magical feel of velvety silk,

Metamorphosis the butterfly was born,

Caterpillar friends wrote the orbituary of Morphosis,

As she flew away in the magnificence of Metamorphosis,

Into the flower loving pretty butterfly,

So to find Morphosis,

Look for Metamorphosis,

Otherwise you find her not,

Her past is irretrievably gone.

Brussels © April 2015 afesehngwaHilary

Take an African trip!

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Yes Africa is still a continent,
With a flow of woes incontinent,
But that is only part of the story,
Disabuse yourself from the partial story,

Get on a mental flight,
Meet ignorance with a fight,
Take an African trip,
Redeem your ignorant slip,

Africa's not only the wars,
Neither is it only the sores,
Nor a starving child on tv shows,
It is also those who rise when the cock crows,

Looking at uncertainty in the face,
Summoning courage for every race,
Excellently doing countless little things,
Rewriting the song that circumstance sings,

Surviving against unfathomable odds,
With the defiance of mini gods,
To put food on the table,
After taking care of the stable,

Send a child to school,
Give them a survival tool,
Plow a stubborn land,
In a day which is all but bland,

Africa has corrupt and dishonest leaders,
But it also has countless strong honest feeders,
Who by the sweat of their brow feed a nation,
Sparing convulsions from a meager food ration,

Africa's not just about dictatorships,
It is also about numberless correct mentorships,
It is about heroism being an african truism,
Unsung heroes who live a taxing life with matchless realism,

Let the African make the story complete,
As non-Africans tell it incomplete,
Be careful when the hunter is your only story teller,
Be in the audience where the hunted is the teller,

Seek the right avenues,
Commercial and non commercial avenues,
The media - If you don't want what they sell,
You must sell what you tell,
Silence is not an option,
Except when drowning is an embraced co-option.

Brussels © April 2015 afesehngwaHilary

In memories of you I steep!

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My heart did leap a mighty leap,
Leaving a hole of dire longing very deep,
And since then I have been unable to sleep,
Wondering if I did all I could to keep,
If my efforts were not at best very cheap,
If I should have been a little more radical than sheep,
Wondering if instead of a worthwhile chase I did not opt to creep,
Unable to accept that I earned the poor harvest I am forced to reap,
Triggers from your picture on my phone as it vibrated in a second long beep,
I am not sure if you mistakenly called me from your sleep,
In the fondest stinging memories of you I now have to steep,
I weep!

Brussels © April 2015 afesehngwaHilary